


we've come a long way (even longer to go)

by TifosaAtHeart (F1_Fanatic)



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Introspection, Sad, Working My Feelings Through Fic, me dealing with Seb possibly doing the r-word thing next year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25613857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F1_Fanatic/pseuds/TifosaAtHeart
Summary: This can't be why Christian made him travel all the way to bloody Bedfordshire. He'd been there, done the cheering up already. This is about something totally different. Sebastian just doesn't know what yet.Basically, I had a meltdown over Seb's future and made Christian tell him a few things I'd like to tell him myself.
Relationships: Christian Horner & Sebastian Vettel
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	we've come a long way (even longer to go)

**Author's Note:**

> Half back from my self imposed break but don't expect any other updates soon because I have this other multi chapter fic I'm working on and I'd like it to be close to perfect when I start posting. 
> 
> Tittle by [Leonora_Acker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leonora_Acker/pseuds/Leonora_Acker). You're a genius and I love you 😘😘
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!

Sebastian is not a hard man to please. And yet, he doesn't like Bedfordshire, doesn't like how everything seems to have changed and evolved since the last time he's been there while he has been treading water all this time. His standards have certainly gotten higher after spending a good chunk of his time in Italy where it's bright and sunny and always bustling with life. And of course, there's its proximity to the place that's currently at the forefront of his mind, the place where he established himself as one of the greatest the racing world has ever seen and where he built the biggest part of his legacy.

He considers taking a detour to Milton Keynes but then thinks better of it and shakes his head. He might used to love this place in the past but it would serve no cause to scratch barely healed wounds.

At least, Christian's house is exactly the way he remembers it. Same white picket fence to signify the boundaries of the property, same trimmed bushes...

Above everything, there's Christian himself, who hugs him tightly with a warm smile on his face, looking thrilled to have him be his guest, and the air hanging around him crisp and fresh. Sebastian closes his eyes and just enjoys the feeling.

“It's good to be here.”

It really is, despite the constant reminder that he failed to accomplish what he set out to. That he traded one great thing for something that appeared to be equally great but eventually backstabbed him.

Christian rubs circles on his back comfortingly, as if knowing where his mind has drifted to.

“It's good to have you here, Seb” he whispers over the top of his head, breath hitting the ends of the golden strands of hair, and Sebastian feels safe and protected.

They take a second too long to lean away from one another and then Christian helps Sebastian carry his bags from the boot of the rental car inside the house. Sebastian doesn't fail to note how quiet everything is all of a sudden.

“Geri and the kids are visiting her parents” Christian offers as an explanation, guiding the two of them at the end of a corridor Sebastian knows all too well.

“You didn't want to go, too?”

The way he sees it, time spent with family is to be cherished. With the way their lives are, shaped by and aligned with machine and speed, chasing tenths of a second that in the end are impossible to gain, it's hard to stop the worst case scenarios from replaying themselves in your head sometimes. If this moment ever comes when the sport decides he's done enough to honor those before him, Sebastian would like to have no regrets, no moments missed when it mattered.

But perhaps because he no longer drives, Christian has a different point of view.

“There are more important things to be doing here.”

Sebastian doesn't think Christian means him. And yet, after sorting his stuff to make the guest room feel a bit like home for the next few days, changing into more comfortable clothes and skyping Hanna and the children for a long while, he can't help but wonder what he is really doing here.

It used to be their tradition back when Sebastian was still competing for Red Bull. Every year, a couple of days before the British grand prix he and his mechanics would gather at Christian's place, have a beer and chill out. For a lot of guys in his now former team, Silverstone is their home race and back in the day Sebastian wanted the occasion to be even more memorable. He knew what it meant to be racing on home soil.

Once or twice, he even had persuaded Mark to join them. He hated the pretense of a rivalry the media so hard tried to create between his teammate and himself and away from the circuit Mark is actually a fun guy to hang out with.

But there hasn't been anything like that in years. Christian got married, started a family and Sebastian fled the nest of the team and found himself getting accustomed to September celebrations, much larger and much more glamorous, in Piazza Duomo, Milan, and a sea of red singing his name.

Then, entirely out of the blue Christian came banging on his door after the race in Hungary, hands awkwardly shoved into his pockets, asking if he'd like to pop by his place before Silverstone _for good old times' sake._

For the most part, Sebastian had been surprised and confused. He was pretty confident Red Bull had kept the tradition going with Dan and later Max. Especially Max, the new golden boy who has set his sights on breaking every single record he owns and who has the entire team backing him to do exactly that. (It's a shame, honestly. Sebastian had hoped for his records to stand a bit longer.)

He'd tried pointing out that he wouldn't fit in very well and would probably be a killjoy. But Christian had insisted it'd be fun and that it would only be the two of them who still got along great. So, he wasn't really left a choice.

Why Christian wanted him to be here, it's anyone's guess. Sebastian is yet to figure that out despite spending the majority of the flight and the short drive to Bedfordshire rattling his brain about it.

He doubts his ex boss just wanted to cheer him up. Budapest had been an exceptional race (well, all things considered) and Sebastian had been walking with a spring in his step post race in the paddock. So, if all Christian was after was to lift up his spirits, then he was a weekend late. He should have been there after Spielberg, when Sebastian had been forced to act like he didn't care that his heart was being crushed. When he was anticipated to grin and bear it all through his own team's indifference and the rise of their new prince.

On the other hand, Christian had frowned as Sebastian consistently lied in his interviews about being alright and not hurting that his time with Ferrari was coming to an end. He had tried to be comforting and optimistic and chant his praises in that joint TV piece after the first race in Austria. He had cared enough to check up on him after the second one and had been kind enough not to mention anything, in spite of Sebastian's eyes being bloodshot and puffy, making it evident that he'd been crying. His eyes had immediately found his when he stepped into the paddock in Budapest, as if fearing that the last two races had worn him out and he was bottling up too much.

So, this can't be why Christian made him travel all the way to bloody Bedfordshire. He'd been there, done the cheering up already. This is about something totally different. Sebastian just doesn't know what yet and it causes him to huff; his former boss likes to wear his heart on his sleeve and yet at the same time he's such a difficult riddle to decipher.

He has known Christian long enough to also know that the older man won't breathe a word unless he prods and therefore Sebastian decides there's no point in beating around the bush.

Christian is making dinner in the kitchen, humming in tune to what suspiciously sounds like one of his wife's hits, and Sebastian clears his throat to make his presence known.

His ex boss barely shoots him a glance before he goes back to chopping veggies on the board. “Geri would cook you delicious lasagna but to my credit, I can make something edible for you.”

_Uhm... What?!_

Either Christian is not aware of the weird and awkward atmosphere between them or he's ignoring it, in hopes of it dissolving away with small talk.

_“Christian.”_

Sebastian mutters the name through gritted teeth, much more curtly than he intended to but at least it finally grabs the attention of the other man.

Sebastian's eyes narrow.

“I'm not here to sob my heart out and vent about Ferrari being evil.”

“Of course not.”

Christian's voice is steady and his brow has furrowed, wondering what brought this up.

“I know you, Seb. You're stronger, better than that.”

Sebastian feels his cheeks heat up and redden at the unexpected compliment but then he quickly recovers, “And I'm not here to be interrogated about what I'm doing next, either.”

“I think you've been interrogated enough on the subject already” Christian agrees, expression softer and his lips curling upwards into a small smile, now realizing what the young German is suggesting. “I told you, Seb. _This_ has nothing to do with business. It's just a bit of fun. For good old times' sake” he repeats his words from Hungary and that eventually sees Sebastian smile, too.

“Good.”

The rest of the evening goes by mostly in companionable silence. Sebastian helps Christian finish off preparing dinner and when it's ready (and slightly burnt) Christian serves them both enormous portions that Sebastian secretly winces at. Antti will make him do extra workouts to burn all these calories off his system. (Maybe he can bargain swimming. He quite likes swimming.) They take their plates and half filled glasses of wine outside in the garden with them and enjoy their meal there, in the silent echo of the night and under a starlit sky.

Sebastian remarks the familiarity of this since he's been in Christian's house many time in the past. He recalls being invited over for tea after endless hours of sim work and ending up staying long enough to challenge his boss in a round of shooting. Cracking jokes about Christian throwing away his talent to manage him and Mark while viewing the collection of trophies his boss still kept from his days as a driver, slightly in awe and slightly sad that Christian never got to experience his biggest dream. Christian cradling little Olivia to his chest as if she was a piece of china and Sebastian being terrified because he'd be in Christian's shoes in a few months and he didn't feel ready to be a dad.

Everything used to be so simple back then. He didn't have to come up with silly jokes just so that people would believe that he's alright. His smile was more than a defense mechanism to mask his pain and ensure that it didn't bleed into his posture at all. And when he turned up at the track all he had to do was to pour his heart out on the asphalt and if it was good enough for him to win, he'd win.

Nowadays, he has politics and mind games to worry about since clearly his teammate can do better than he ever could. His teammate who smiles brightly like the sun due to the prancing horse on his chest and he no longer does. His teammate who had first place trophy to hug to himself and _fratelli d'Italia_ ring around Monza and in his five years with Ferrari Sebastian hadn't been able to match that.

He doesn't envy what Charles has -a legacy of two wins to boast about already and a five year contract set in stone. He wishes the kid hoards of luck and to grow some really thick skin if he wants to survive in Maranello for as many years. Plus, Sebastian has always been of the opinion that the past is better left in the past.

It's difficult, however, not to miss the days when happiness came wrapped in ugly sponsor trophies in Sepang and the peak of the world didn't seem so far away.

“You're not eating much” Christian can't help but point out, his own mouth full but Sebastian having abandoned his fork at the side of his plate with a small clattering sound.

“I lost most of my appetite” Sebastian admits with a rueful smile.

Christian stares at him wordlessly, waiting for him to explain why. But when seconds tick past and Sebastian doesn't bother to elaborate, he swallows the food in his mouth and reaches out to clasp his shoulder.

“You know you can always talk to me, right?”

The gentle touch burns Seb's skin through his flannel shirt, a reminder of the times when points slipped past him without him setting a foot wrong, be it mechanical failures or another driver's false judgment, and Christian would wind an arm around his neck and kiss his temple, promising he had nothing to feel bad about. No one has done this for him in a while.

“Do you...”

He drags in a large puff of air, forcing himself to say the words out loud.

“Do you think I ruined my shot at Ferrari for myself?”

It's been bothering him for some time now, since last year when they realized the flaw in the SF90's design and it became obvious that the 2018 car would be the last Ferrari capable of being a contender for the championship for a while. Has he had his chance and let it slip between his fingers because he's not good at dealing with pressure? He trusts Christian to tell him the truth. He has never failed him in that regard.

Christian frowns. “Who told you that?”

The fact that he doesn't immediately say no, doesn't rush to wave off his doubts and soothe his concerns causes something to twist uncomfortably in Seb's chest, almost confirming what he already had suspected.

“Most people...”

“Well, _most people_ don't know what they're talking about, Seb!”

Christian looks enraged, as if the plain insinuation of Seb not being good enough insults his own honor.

Then, softer, “Seb, when did you even have the car to fight for the damn championship?”

“Seventeen and eighteen” Sebastian argues sheepishly.

“Right, and I'm not going to pretend that Baku was a great move on your side but you drove the wheels off of that car in seventeen and then the engine broke down, _the car_ failed you, not the other way around. And what do you _really_ have to feel guilty about eighteen, Seb, huh? Germany?”

Sebastian stiffens at the last part.

“People, _champions_ have made bigger mistakes in mixed conditions. Anyone with half a brain cell could see you weren't comfortable in your own skin in that car, anyway. How could you have ruined your chances? Did you even have one, to begin with? If anything, you fought harder than _most people_ would have.”

Sebastian blushes again, always humble and having never been good with receiving praise.

“So, what now?”

“I don't think I'm the one you should be asking that question to” Christian laughs ever so slightly. “I can tell you you still have a lot to give to this stupid sport. I can tell you you still have the fire burning in your bones. But I can't tell you whether you'd be happy. You have to decide this for yourself.”

Sebastian nods, understanding the significance of this decision.

“How did you know I needed to hear this stuff?” He can't help but genuinely wonder.

“Well...” Christian smiles. “I know _you_. I know you're a dreamer, a believer in the greater cause and everything... I know when things go down the drain you tend to shoulder it alone. And it seems like you've had plenty of things going down the drain lately.”

So, that's what he's doing in Bedfordshire. Christian saw him struggle, noticed that he was about to drown so he reached out and gently guided him to solid ground again. Sebastian is deeply touched.

“Don't” Christian stops him when he opens his mouth to say _thank you_. “I'm sure you'd do the same for me.”

“I would” Sebastian affirms without much of a second thought before the words are rolling off his tongue.

With a smile that is a little brighter and one final squeeze to his shoulder, Christian returns to shoving food down his throat.

“You should finish that” he gestures towards Seb's plate where his fill is sitting mostly untouched. “I'll take offense if you don't.”

Sebastian knows this is meant only half jokingly so he picks up his fork and tries to force down a few more bites. But he really no longer feels hungry and instead he opts for a sip of wine.

Halfway to his lips, he pauses.

“Hey, Christian?”

“Hmm?”

Sebastian hesitates for a second, then raises his glass. 

“To good old times.”

_To Shanghai and India and Abu Dhabi and you screaming down the radio that I'm the world champion. To Malaysia and Singapore and dreams of red that tore around the seams..._

Christian smiles, bringing his own glass up to clink against Seb's.

“To good old times, champ.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm SOOOO nervous about this so kudos and especially comments would be nice :)


End file.
